


Ink

by OmegaDirewolf



Series: SPN/TVD [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Raul's Girls, Smut, Stripper!Reader, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Tatted Reader, a bit of angst, lol, reader has tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmegaDirewolf/pseuds/OmegaDirewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was the one that pushed you away; told you get lost and live a normal life. Now that he's found you again, this wasn't what he expected you to do.</p><p>>></p><p>I didn't specify which Winchester it was so basically, its your chose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink

Her hands gripped the pole, expertly swinging herself around it. Lifting her hips and legs to wrapped around it above her, releasing her grasp with her hands and slowly sliding down with her thighs. Arms outstretched below her head, touching the ground and releasing her thighs from the shining metal, mastering a simple handstand before bending backwards to stand. Her breasts swayed at the movements, lacking the confinements of a bra, only simple X's of black tape keeping her taut nipples from view.

He watched her sway to the little thump of the music of the club, eyes trained on her and only her form. Her inked fit body moving on the little stage in front of the men (and sometimes women), watching her dance in the most erotic ways, more erotic than how she used to dance for him. Back when she was his.

Back when she hunted, alongside him and his brother, before he forced her away to have a normal life, though this wasn't what he expected her to do.

He watched as she played with the thin string material of the lacy black thong she wore. She flipped and played with her hair, giving a somewhat innocent look as she crouched on the stage, knees spread wide, nibbling on her finger with seductive eyes.

Her tattoos somewhat shimmered in the light of the stage, capturing everyone's attention, including his. The bold black lines of her back, spread and designed like wings. It's tips at the bottom curving around her hips to the front. He remembered tracing those lines, from when he took her behind or when she rode him reverse cowgirl, her ass bouncing on him like she bounced it now for the audience.

The expert inkage of the owl with the "dream catcher" on the middle of her back, easily disguising the anti-possession design within it's weaving. The eyes of the owl hiding the small devil's trap in it's large pupils. He remembered finding these little details as he gazed upon her when she slept on her stomach after a fun night.

The fluffy design of the large feather at her ankle, somewhat cut off by the thin strap of her large black heels. The feather dissipating into small sparrows that curved around her entire leg, leaving people with the desire to find where it ended as the birds disappeared under the front of her thong. He remembered following that trail with his own lips and tongue, letting it lead the way to the sweet treasure that lay at it's end. Licking and sucking his way to find an even sweeter and more intense white gold to fill his mouth as he pleased her.

And though these tattoos brought sweet memories to the surface, what really caught his attention, was the new one. A torn bow, inked onto the skin of her slightly protruding hip bone, the same exact spot where his name had been. The same place he laid gentle kisses upon to sooth the skin that had been marked by ink and needle.

In all honesty, it hurt. To have something so touching to him be completely obstructed-replaced-so easily. But, he couldn't blame you. He was the one that pushed you away; told you get lost and live a normal life. Yet here he was, sitting a little ways back from the stage, nursing a glass of Arrogant Bastard ale; which just so happen to be how he felt right now-an arrogant bastard for letting her go. For hurting her how he did.

She though, had not noticed his piercing stare, having gotten used to the intensity of the looks her audience gave her as she performed. As she displayed herself for all to see, just so she could get the money, the money she need for the rent.

Ever since she left the hunting life, she swore to leave every aspect of it behind, including credit card scams. So when she found 'Strippers For Hire' in the PennySaver, she took her chance in her desperateness. So she practiced hard, learned how to swing from that metal pole with style, lifting herself with balance and easy. Quickly she became the highest paid "erotic dancer" in the whole club, mostly thanks to her tattoos; the tattoos she hated with a passion because of the bittersweet memories they resurfaced. Not having enough money for the laser removal treatment, she bared with them.

As the soft thump of the music came to an end, (Y/n) swayed her hips as she bent to collect her tips and walk off the stage into the protection of the velvet curtains. She hated this job; but she needed the money.

Walking into her dressing room, she quickly changed out of her dancing outfit (though there wasn't much to change out of). Removing the black lace thong, heels and nipple covers, she replaced them with white lace knee highs, a black garter belt, black platform heels, and a white bikini-top style bra. Shrugging on her black leather jacket, she walked out into the lounge area of the club, walking towards the bar area.

After she disappeared behind the velvet curtains, he called over a waitress in nothing but a skimpy maid outfit and black heels. She took his glass and refilled his ale, returning it to him as he asked for who to talk to about getting a lap dance, and what (Y/n)'s name was at the club.

Receiving the names Raul and 'Huntress', he payed the highest amount for the longest lap dance and was escorted to a private booth where he waited. Waited for her.

Just barely sipping her glass of Sailor Jerry, her boss came over, whispering in her ear about a waiting customer in booth 4. Rolling her eyes she downed her drink an shrugged off her jacket, handing to Raul before sensually making her way to the booth.

Steeling herself for the possibly horrendous man she would have to be all over for an hour, she stepped in, eyes closed and hands in her hair.

Before she could even open her eyes, a word was spoken in a voice that made her freeze.

"(Y/n)."


End file.
